He Found It
by InvitationToIllusion
Summary: This is the sequel to Hero's. It kinda tags on after the events of hero's, when Dean finds the homework that Sam had written. Yeah, it's cute, well, at least I think so!


**TITLE:** HE FOUND IT

**AUTHOR:** MonikaLou

**A/N: **Ok. Well, This story has just taken on a life of it's own. I mean, this was originally meant to be just one story, but a review from Ditzyleo made me think about a sequel. So, I kind of came up with this. By the way, I call my sister nugget-head so it isn't very original…

**DISCLAIMER: **Like everybody else, I own nothing! Although, I wish I owned those boys, mmm…. Jensen fix… Jared fix… I don't know how I'm gonna survive here in Australia until season 3… Groans loudly before smashing head against computer screen

**HE FOUND IT  
**

Here they were again. Packing and repacking again. For the billionth time. This month.

"Man, I hate hunting sometimes!" Dean muttered under his breath, pulling Sam's old school bag to the door. Sam was helping John pack up the weapons, and Dean had been left with his least favorite chore. Cleaning up his and Sam's personal belongings.

"Oi! Nugget-heat!" he called out, his voice echoing down the tiny passage.

Dean grinned as he heard Sam's voice reply. "What?!"

Dean looked down at the bag. A few crumpled sheets of paper, an old wad of bubblegum and a couple of pens littered the bottom of the bag.

"You want me to get rid of the crap that's in your bag!?"

There was a short silence, during which Dean sniffed cautiously at a rotten sandwich squashed into the corner of the bag. Evidently, Sam had hidden it there and forgotten about it. Wincing, he pulled his head out of the bag, and pricked his ears, waiting Sam's reply.

"Yeah! Thanks."

Dean nodded to himself, and dragged the old schoolbag outside.  
He dropped it on the ground next to the bin and began rifling through the contents of the zipped compartment. Picking up Sam's old workbooks, he flicked through them briefly and then chucked them pell mell into the rubbish bin, watching as they hit the nearly empty bin.

When he'd finished discarding Sam's books, he reached the other compartment. Picking up the pens, he tried each of them out on his hand before throwing them into the bin too. All that was left of their existence was the red marks of the back of his hand that spelt out SAM.

Throwing the rotting, oozing sandwich into the bin after the decaying food, he picked up the papers in one fist.

Pulling them apart, he saw the grades that Sam had obtained. He was a child genius!

Reaching the last piece of paper from the pile, he barely looked at it before chucking it in the bin. AS he watched the last paper flutter down to the bottom, he saw for an instant, his own name written in Sam's handwriting.

Lunging forwards, he caught the paper in one hand as it touched the bottom but fell into the bin for his effort.

With grim satisfaction, he climbed out of the bin and sat down on the pavement, absentmindedly wiping the rotting sandwich off his fingers as he read the page.

_I tried to define what a hero was. I did not come up with much. What I do know is that a hero is someone who is always there to save you, to save the day, to pick you up when you have no chance of making it up by yourself. I define a hero as someone you aspire to be, someone you look up to. Well, my hero has been in my life since the beginning and only noticed he existed last night at 10:47PM. He has always been there for me, like a real hero should. Has always saved the day. And always will continue to save the day. If my hero saw me writing this, he would laugh and tell me to grow up, but deep inside he would remember that it was he who told me that your are only young once, and that I should make the most of it.  
My hero is laying in the bed next to mine. He is sleeping. He is breathing. He looks like an ordinary person. He has two arms, two legs, one head and although I like to think and say otherwise, he has a brain. But what sets him apart is his heart. _

_My hero saves people. My hero has a job to do, it has been passed down from my father. It is a very solitary job. You have hardly any friends. People that have this job walk a very lonely road. They walk by themselves, and although my hero likes to say he is not afraid to be alone, I know different. I know he doesn't like to be alone, I know lots of things. I know that he is only following orders, but he doesn't deserve the job that he has been given. My hero is only 16, too young for the world to be dependent on. He is too young to be a soldier. And he is fighting in a war that has been raging for centuries. A war that only few people know of. _

_A war that will change the world._

_And so, if my hero ever reads these words, let him know that I will be the first to say thank you.  
Thank you that you pulled me out of that fire all those years ago. Thank you for looking after me. Thank you for being my father, even though your are only 4 years older than me.  
For a example of what I define as a hero, look no further than my brother, Dean._

A single tear fell onto the page and smudged the first letter of his name.

Wiping his eyes, he blinked and they disappeared.

He took a second to regain his composure and stood. Walking inside, he went into the kitchen and leaned against the doorframe, watching Sam and John work.  
Since Sam had turned 14 a lot of things had changed. He had changed so much. No longer was he the inquisitive little brat he had once been. Now he was a boy that had been forced to grow up. And Dean had never wanted that. He had tried to stop it. He only wanted Sam to be a kid for just a little while longer. But, in true Winchester fashion, Sam had joined the ranks and had become a man.

But Dean smiled to himself. He had at least slowed down the work that John had done, he had made sure that Sam had had fun.

As if Sam felt his brothers' eyes on him, he looked up and smiled at Dean.

"Sammy, can I talk to you for a second?" Dean asked, and Sam nodded, following his older brother into the next room.

Sam sat down on a couch and looked at his older brother. Then he wrinkled his nose, amusement creeping into his eyes.

"Dude, you smell like moldy sandwiches."

"Yeah, well maybe you should have eaten your food when you were at school. Come on, I'm not that bad of a cook."

Sam turned lightly pink, eyes not meeting his brothers. Then, he did look up, the fire dancing in his eyes told Dean that he had a comeback.

"Yeah, well, that doesn't explain why you smell like you bathed in them!"

Dean held up the crumpled piece of paper. "I smell because I went fishing around in the bin after I saw my name on this."

Sam frowned and looked at the sheet, not recognizing it.

Dean grinned and started reading dramatically. "I tried to define what a hero was. I did not come up with much. What I do know is that a hero is someone wh-"

Sam snatched the paper off him and read it himself, eyes sweeping the page as if it was a foreign object.

Dean kept silent until Sam looked up at Dean.

"You weren't supposed to read that." Sam said quietly, now well and truly red.

"Yeah, well, I did." Dean grinned again, hazel eyes twinkling.

There was an awkward silence.

For the first time during that conversation, Dean didn't know what direction this conversation was heading. He didn't know what he expected to come of this chat; he just wanted Sam to know that he had read it. So, for the first time in Dean's life, he was speechless.

Then, finally, Sam spoke up.

"That was when I had homework. Hero's. Why they change the world, what they do to help… You know, I asked you for ideas, but you didn't have anything. You were eating that muesli bar and that you said to come to the kitchen with you. And I remember you fell off that seat and then I went to bed. Than you came in. And you fell asleep and I was still awake. And then.." Sam's voice trialed off.

Dean looked at his brother and said softly, "And then…"

Sam looked up. "And then I tried to define what a hero was. I was watching you, thinking about what a hero does, and then it became perfectly clear. The only hero I have was only ever going to be you, Dean."

Dean grinned and goofed, the only thing that would keep back his emotion. "Aw… Shucks…. I love you too, Sammy boy!"

Sam shook his head, knowing that Dean had said thank you in his own personal way. "Yeah. Well, I was meant to throw that out before you read it… but… you know…"

Dean snatched back the paper and held it up the light, giving it the impression of the paper being worth immense value.

"Well, I'm going to frame it and at your 21st, I'm going to take it out and show it to your girlfriend, and then she'll dump you for me coz I'm way sexier than you…"

Sam punched Dean on the arm and Dean laughed out loud, dodging Sam's second attempt and wrestling him to the floor.  
They rolled around for a couple of minutes until John walked into the room and saw them play wrestling.

"Boys!" He said in annoyance. "We're meant to be packing!"

Sam rolled out from under Dean and snatched the paper back. At the same moment, Dean pulled it back and with a ripping sound, the paper split from top to bottom.

The brother sat there on the ground, staring at the paper that each held in their hand.

Sam looked up at Dean and Dean shrugged. "Well, now I wont get to frame it."

Sam chuckled and then began to laugh, which Dean got infected with. And as the sun set on the brothers laughing hysterically, John shook his head and walked out of the room, muttering odd words such as "Never learn" and "Boys."

-FINIS-

Well, what did you think? Please send me a line or else I might die from **N.E.S.A.R.S.I.D.S** (Never-Ever-Sent-Any-Reviews-So-I'm- Depressed Syndrome.) Just Joking! He he he…

Thanks for reading and I hope you liked it! Buh Bye!

MonikaLou


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